


The Faith of Nonbelievers

by rixsig-writes (rixsig)



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Soulmate AU, mentions of one-sided shunazu, mika is a little co-dependent still but he's working on it, shu is very dense, shu itsuki's incredibly pretentious sounding inner monologue, warning: rinne's foul mouth, warning: shu (depression+disordered eating+all that stuff that comes up in marionette)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:36:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25319914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rixsig/pseuds/rixsig-writes
Summary: Rinne Amagi—brutish, vulgar, and loud—is exactly the kind of man Shu should despise.So it really is a mystery how they get along so well.
Relationships: Amagi Rinne/Itsuki Shuu
Comments: 52
Kudos: 120
Collections: Enstars Rarepair Week





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> day three of rarepair week woo wooooo 
> 
> don't take my enst!! timeline too seriously who knows what a chronological order of events is, not me. i did my best

As a child Shu had been nearly flawless. Perfectly proportioned with porcelain skin, he fit in perfectly with the dolls he loved so much, marred only by a singular dark dot on his shoulder blade which, luckily, was easily concealed by the fashions he preferred. 

He looks back upon that time now with considerable envy. These days he is far from his own ideal, stretched tall and lanky rather than slight and cherubic, teenage awkwardness only kept at bay with rigorous practice, dance steps planned and executed with ruthless efficiency over and over and over again until they’re engraved in his heart and as natural as the ticking of a clock. 

He is fifteen, a first-year idol in Yumenosaki, and he is in love. 

After all, the world could never produce a creature more heavenly than Nazuna Nito. Nito, Nito, Nito. The name rings in his mouth like a bell, bright and beautiful, a sound only challenged by the thud of Shu’s heart whenever he catches sight of him. God’s hand was surely at its most precise when carving Nito’s features, his delicate limbs, his fine hair. Shu can think of no greater purpose than to put that divine beauty on display, to create the most artful, most intricate lives for Nito to thrive in.

Sometimes Shu fancies that the mark on his shoulder blade, now a pair of two dots, is some kind of soul mark, and that one day he’ll find its match on Nito’s skin. But no matter how he searches he finds nothing of the sort on him, just one simple, thin line on Nito’s breastbone about the size of a needle. Well. It’s not unheard of for marks to develop as a person ages. Perhaps over time their marks will align. 

Besides, it’s often said that when one meets their match the soul will just _know_. The pull Shu had felt was so strong that he’d immediately leapt out of the nearest window to meet him, heedless of his surroundings or of any passersby. His heart was so full of awe, his inspiration overflowing… What else could that be other than destiny? As months pass he watches Nazuna’s mark bloom with delight, the thin line growing into a needle and thread, unbothered by the unchanging state of his own mark. It’s no matter. He’s quite sure they’ll be together forever, Shu showcasing Nito’s beauty for all eternity.

He is very wrong.

* * *

Shu has no awareness of how many days have passed since that fatal performance of Sajou no Roukaku. He is vaguely aware of how thin he has become, how frail, but still he cannot stomach any food put in front of him. Eating, always a chore, has now become unbearable. The curtains stay shut, the room wreathed in an endless gloom until whichever moment Kagehira decides to barge in, the light from the hallway searing to the eye in comparison. 

It’s pointless. There is nothing to be done. Not anymore. Everything Shu had painstakingly assembled had crumbled in one horrible instant. Everything Shu had done to prevent them from being crushed under Tenshouin’s heel had turned to crush them instead. The truth becomes obvious in retrospect: all this time Valkyrie had been the true castle of sand. 

As if beckoned by the memory the door opens, Kagehira poking his head in through the opening and interrupting Shu’s thoughts with a softly cawed ‘Oshi-san?’ He waits for Shu to chide him about his failure to knock, still clinging to the old, well-worn script of their past conversations, but soon shuffles in regardless when Shu fails to reply. He holds a small tray in his hands. “I got’cha some tea!”

If Shu were in a better state he might have snapped that he never wished for any, but as it is he can’t muster a single word past his petrified throat. Distantly he feels Kagehira set the tray down on Shu’s lap with a surprising amount of delicacy. Ah… he must still be running himself ragged chasing those part-time jobs. Handling drinks and the like, cashiering, cleaning. Shu has half a mind to scold him properly this time—what use is working oneself to the bone for extra funds when Valkyrie is long dead?—but this attempt to speak fares no better than the first. 

“Nhnn…” Kagehira’s eyebrows furrow as he attempts to fix the tea in the way Shu prefers. The precision of his measurements is off, but some part of Shu is surprised at the accuracy of his memory. Had he ever shown Kagehira how he makes his tea before? Or had he simply watched him so often that he’d managed to etch the recipe into that sieve of a brain? “There!” Kagehira exclaims with a grin, satisfied. “Now all y’gotta do is drink up, Oshi-san~” 

Something about the brightness of his expression, the open care, the affection, causes the pit of despair in Shu’s chest to tear wider yet another centimeter. Kagehira shouldn’t be here. He never should have joined them.

Kagehira’s smile falters when Shu doesn’t move, then revives again slightly lopsided. “C’mon,” he coaxes, wrapping Shu’s hands around the warm mug. “You don’t hafta drink all of it, but it’ll get cold soon, y’know?”

A mug. Normally Shu drinks from a teacup and saucer, but a mug is certainly less fragile. As he raises it to his lips he feels his arms waver minutely from the effort. Even now he can push through the fog and recall one of their stage routines with perfect clarity, but he doubts he could suffer through even five steps of it now. How wretched. 

Shu takes a cautious sip, warmth flooding his throat as he swallows. As he’d suspected when watching Kagehira’s heaping spoonfuls: it’s a touch too sweet.

He manages to drink about a third of it down under Kagehira’s watchful eye before he can take no more, setting it back down on the tray. Kagehira seems to take this as a signal to chatter happily about his day, glazing right over classes to regale him with stories from work, but Shu absorbs not a whit of it, trapped in his self-recriminations. 

“Kagehira,” Shu rasps quietly, cutting Kagehira’s babble short more brutally than a knife ever could. “You should not be here.” For a moment Kagehira simply freezes, uncomprehending, but then his smile shatters, face going bone-white. Jarring first words to hear after endless days of silence, but they need to be said. “Leave me.”

“No, no, Oshi-san, no!” Seized by desperation Kagehira scrambles to get a knee up on the mattress where Shu is propped up against the pillows, his hands grabbing one of Shu’s like a beggar, like a ruined man in supplication. He pleads over and over again for the right to stay, for Shu not to give up, for Valkyrie to rise again, plying him with sparkling dreams and frantic prayers in equal measure, but for better or for worse Shu has no more words left in him to reply.

He wonders if Kagehira deludes himself that Shu is his soulmate, like Shu had once deluded himself about Nito.

But as far as Shu can tell Kagehira has no mark, part of about a fourth of the population doomed to live with the mystery. Perhaps it’s better that way. Perhaps the dots on Shu’s shoulder blade are mere freckles and all of Shu’s dreams of destiny were simply that: dreams. Or perhaps the mark has been real all along, and Shu is doing his unlucky match a favor by wasting away before he ever meets them.

When Kagehira’s begging runs dry he flings himself forward and wraps Shu in his arms, the tea tipping over and drenching the tray along with a small patch of comforter. Hot tears drip onto Shu’s neck. Shu is at a loss for what to say. He can’t force Kagehira to leave, but neither can he bring Valkyrie back from the dead. He is no god. Or if he was, god is dead.

Stalled and powerless Shu lays there limply while Kagehira grieves. If he were anyone else he could have kept Nito safe in his hands without ever wounding him. If he were anyone else he could have powered through Tenshouin’s underhanded schemes, could have done something to prevent his fellow eccentrics from suffering. If he were anyone else Valkyrie would not have fallen in disgrace, and Kagehira would not be wailing like his whole world has ended. If he were anyone— 

“‘My, my, Mika-chan, whatever is the matter?’” 

Kagehira ends up staying, and so does Mademoiselle. And months later when Shu is seventeen and back under the spotlight Kagehira tells him that he’ll follow him even to the depths of hell. 

Shu has every reason to believe him.

* * *

By the time Shu graduates from high school and starts studying abroad in France he has to admit that his mark is no random collection of dots. There are four of them now, arranged like equidistant corners of a flawlessly formed box. Luckily most of his teenaged bitterness towards the concept of soulmates has washed away with time, replaced by faint amusement.

Occasionally he’ll imagine that his soulmate is here, some Parisian thousands of miles removed from the tempestuous world of idols that Shu came from. They’ll visit the Louvre and stroll the Jardin des Tuileries, pick up pastries and eat them in some quiet courtyard square. It’s a pleasant fantasy.

For that though Shu would need to socialize more. He gets along with his classmates well enough—believe it or not he rarely feels _that_ eccentric now that he’s been tossed in with a gaggle of other fervent art enthusiasts—but forming any friendships deeper than collaborative projects or idle classroom chatter eludes him here.

If he dares to say it he might be feeling… lonely. 

Of course he and Kagehira talk on the phone often, doing their best to patch together the gaps in their differing time zones, but Shu does his utmost to guard Kagehira’s time, Kagehira’s independence, from himself. He knows even now that the wrong words could set Kagehira miles back in his journey to standing on the stage as Shu’s equal rather than as his object.

Ah… the obsessive doll that refused to become a real boy, the loyal shadow, the one person who refused to turn away from Shu in his darkest hour. He keeps waiting for the day when Kagehira will realize that he has always needed him more than he’s ever needed Shu. 

But for now all he can do is work and wait patiently. He collects an armful of fabric and returns to his work-in-progress hanging from the dress form, laying the swathes out on the adjacent table so he can measure the proper shapes to cut. 

“‘Don’t be lonely, Shu-kun,’” Mademoiselle chimes in kindly from her cushioned seat nearby. “‘You know you can always talk to me.’” 

Shu feels no small amount of guilt for this predicament forcing her awake when she had been falling into slumber not too long ago, but there are times when her warmth and understanding are the only things that keep him tethered to this earth. 

“I know.” 

* * *

Shu first hears of Rinne Amagi in rumors, spoken of like he’s Ensemble Square’s very own boogeyman. His first thought is for Kagehira’s safety: he gives little credence to public opinion, but the last thing Kagehira needs is to be cornered by some loose cannon in the CosPro offices. With Kagehira on high alert and Shu himself still in Paris, they can easily sidestep this nasty business. Amagi can set whatever fires he likes with CrazyB. And if those fires happen to cause Tenshouin considerable distress, well then Shu might have to thank him for it afterwards.

Shu amends this opinion very quickly after actually meeting him.

“Damnnn onii-san, your hands are like snow! C’mon, c’mon, let’s shake~!”

Shu squashes the asinine urge to tell this man that his feel very warm to him in contrast and scowls instead. “Just how long do you intend to hold my hand hostage?” He’s never seen a picture and neither of them have yet introduced themselves, but Shu finds himself certain of the name that goes with this face nonetheless. “You’re Rinne Amagi, are you not?”

“The infamous Shu Itsuki knows my name?” Amagi answers with a frankly suspicious grin. “Sweet. Hey, does this mean you’re my fan?”

Shu recoils, not getting very far due to Amagi’s firm hold. “D-Don’t be ridiculous! I never asked for them, but Saegusa volunteered some details. I have no interest in you whatsoever.”

Amagi isn’t deterred by that in the slightest. In the span of a single minute Amagi asks Shu for money, reveals that he’s regularly been toying with Kagehira, and states that he’s only joined the Craftmonster circle to get free food out of the deal. Shu is beginning to wonder why everyone’s been making such a fuss over this reprobate. 

“I was a fool to have any expectations for you,” Shu says, clicking his tongue. He wasn’t aware that he’d even _had_ any expectations until now, but he can’t deny the disappointment he’s currently feeling. “I won’t make the mistake of wasting my time any longer. Good day.”

“Whaaaaat? It’s not that easy. I won’t let you escape☆” Amagi reels Shu back in before he can get very far. “Won’t you play with me, onii-san?”

“Hmph! Take your dice and go play by yourself.” Shu hands back the object that started this whole god forsaken conversation and attempts to leave a second time, stopped yet again when Amagi jams his fingers into one of Shu’s belt loops. Shu squawks.

“Alright, evens is pachinko and odds is the dorm room. Ready~! Steady~! Go!”

“You brute, unhand me! You’re stressing the material!”

“And it’sss… odd! Looks like I gotta go to sleep. Bummer.” He grabs another one of Shu’s belt loops on the other side and tugs Shu closer. “Hey, I’ve got a good idea. How about you come to my room and tell me all about France?” 

“Now _why_ would I ever—” 

“You’ve got such a nice voice, you’ll lull me right to sleep~”

The rest of Shu’s words get stuck in his throat, forcing him to make an inelegant noise instead. What was this man thinking inviting a virtual stranger to do something so… so _intimate_? “No. Absolutely not.”

Needless to say Amagi leaves a very vivid first impression.

* * *

Shu escapes that one moment, but he does not escape Rinne Amagi. Not a surprise considering they share an agency, but it’s a nuisance nonetheless. Most of the rumors Shu has heard end up being true: Amagi is a gambler, a drinker, and a proverbial wrench in the works wherever he goes. 

Other details Shu picks up unwillingly. His laugh is loud and boisterous, his sense of personal space is small, and he seems to delight in getting on people’s nerves. He’s also a serial flirt, and strangely enough Shu seems to be one of his favorite targets. 

Amagi has a poor sense of humor, or at least that’s what Shu normally assumes. But every once in a while when Shu walks the streets of Paris he remembers Amagi asking about it, the interest seeming almost… sincere. 

Ridiculous. Amagi is just frivolously wasting time, as people of that type are wont to do. 

Shu’s soulmark twinges, and he holds back a wince, rolling his shoulder. Another spot is appearing, the fifth one, and it’s by far been the most annoying of the bunch. How long is this expected to go on? Will Shu be middle-aged, still getting more and more of them until someone could play a childish game of connect-the-dots on his skin? 

He wonders if Amagi has a soulmark. Surely not. It’s hard to imagine someone gallivanting around like that unless a soulmate is out of the picture. Or perhaps he just doesn’t put much stock in the concept. Someone who willingly throws himself into the jaws of chance probably wouldn’t be thrilled at having his destiny pre-written for him. It would ruin his joie de vivre. 

What a pitiful state of affairs. If Amagi’s soulmate does exist then it would seem that Shu’s isn’t the only one getting toyed with by the universe.

* * *

“Oshi-saaaaaaaaaaaan!!!!”

It has been a mere five minutes since Shu has stepped off of the helipad. 

Kagehira sprints full-force down the hallway, nearly trips, windmills his arms like an elementary schooler, and then finally recovers himself just well enough to continue his collision course with Shu. “GYOGH!” Shu grunts, dropping all his luggage in favor of catching Kagehira around the waist. His roller bag tips over and falls with a delayed slap. “What on _earth_ is the matter with—” 

“Oh Mii-taaaan~♫”

“...ah,” says Shu.

Amagi plods into sight from around the corner, propping himself against the wall for a moment to lose himself in a hyena laugh. “Man, Mii-tan, you’re fast! Are you like that right out of the box, or is it ‘cause your favorite pink bitch is here?”

Kagehira bristles like a hissing cat. “Don’tcha dare talk about Oshi-san like th—!”

“Kagehira, hush.” Kagehira grumbles but does as he’s told, wiggling around so he can cling to Shu’s arm and glare at Amagi more efficiently. Shu would chide Kagehira for acting so undignified, but he’s learned by now not to expect any dignity for at least an hour after he arrives from overseas. “How many times must I remind you to leave Kagehira alone?” Shu says finally, turning his attention to Amagi who is considerably closer than he used to be. “And keep that vulgar language out of my earshot.”

“Yeah? So if you can’t hear it, it’s fair game?”

“I have no delusions about improving _your_ behavior.”

“Gyahaha, harsh! You’re right though.” Amagi shoves his hands in his own pockets and leans forward with a grin, apparently just to see Kagehira jolt and scowl because of it. “Nice playin’ with you, butterfly. Maybe I’ll bring a net next time.”

Shu gets the building tension of a headache at that mental image. He sighs sharply and pushes Amagi back at the shoulder. “Do you listen to a word I say?”

“Woah noodle-arms, no need to get the guns out.” Amagi cackles, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m goin’, I’m goin’. Don’t worry, I’ll try to find a way to include you next time~”

When Amagi is out of sight Shu sighs, much slower and longer than before. Kagehira too seems to be unwinding, hands less of a deathgrip on Shu’s upper arm. “What exactly was he going to _do_ with you if he caught you?” Shu muses out loud. 

“I dunno, I was just talkin’ to Yukkun about how I was on my way up to meet’cha and then he comes charging outta nowhere!” Kagehira replies, indignant. “No warning or nothin’! He chased me up three whole flights of stairs!”

If Shu thinks charitably it might have been an excuse to greet them, but Shu is very tired and not inclined to charity at the moment.

* * *

Shu doesn’t tend to visit the cafeteria. He detests noise and more often than not he’ll be more satisfied with what he makes with his own two hands rather than whatever a self-proclaimed ‘cook’ behind the counter claims is food. He has to admit, though, that Tenshouin has constructed this place well. Much more spaced out and orderly than Yumenosaki’s, the ES cafeteria is built in such a way that it seems to absorb noise rather than throw it back to the ear. All the chatter fades into a tolerable murmur. 

“Ayyyyy, Shu-kun!” Amagi howls at full force from across the room. 

Mostly. 

Shu ignores him and heads to an empty table, taking his smart phone out and squinting at it. Texting and calling no longer poses the problem it did in high school—maintaining long distance friendships forced him to acclimate—but he’s loath to use it for anything else. Tenshouin’s fault for making this entire building and all the idols within it so dependent on an ‘ _app_.’ But Kagehira insists that he familiarize himself and so he tries, stabbing at buttons with an impatient finger as he attempts to view the menu on his screen instead of flagging down a server like a reasonable person would.

The table quakes as someone flings themself into a chair and plops their feet on it one by one. “Anything good on there?” Amagi pauses to laugh at the ceiling. “Of course there is, Niki’s food is awesome.”

“I did not invite you to join me,” Shu says. He might agree with that statement—Shiina’s food is by far the best he’s had in a setting like this—but that doesn’t mean Amagi needs to know that. He plucks a napkin from the dispenser and uses it to nudge at Amagi’s shoes. “Get your feet off the table, you heathen. I am going to be _eating_ here.” 

“Whazzit matter?” Amagi drawls, not budging an inch. “Everything’s on trays. None of your precious meal will touch my shoe dirt, pinky promise.” Shu blanches and shoves Amagi’s feet right off, wiping furiously at the place they just were while Amagi cackles. “Woah! You’re pretty strong for a beanpole, Shu-kun. We should wrestle someday~”

“I abhor violence.”

“Whaaaaat. That’s not violence. C’mon city boy, haven’t you ever roughhoused before?”

“Not once.”

“... Huh.”

Amagi props his chin on his hand and stares at Shu like he’s never encountered a creature like him before. Well. Shu can say the same. Amagi has all the hallmarks of a schoolyard bully, and yet… he’s never quite mean enough. At most Shu could call him rude, and he does, but if Shu truly couldn’t put up with any rudeness he never would have survived Nito’s blunt tongue or Kagehira’s filthy habits. 

“Has no one ever told you it’s impolite to stare?” Shu grumbles.

Amagi grins slow, shark-like. “Try tellin’ that to yourself first.”

* * *

Somehow they become friends. It’s more than a little galling to realize. 

Shu spends days and days in Paris and manages only faint connections while a few barely remarkable encounters in Japan land him this red-headed menace. It’s absurd. But Shu can’t deny there’s a certain strange comfort to Amagi’s presence. Few are the people that can withstand him at his oddest, but Amagi doesn’t so much as bat an eye. In fact he seems to _delight_ in it, ruffling Shu’s feathers, goading him on in his rants, and conspiring with Mademoiselle whenever possible.

“‘Oh, Rinne-kun!’” Mademoiselle greets brightly. “‘Shu-kun was so sure you wouldn’t show today.’”

“Wazzuuup Mado-chan!” 

Shu can’t look up from his work without losing his concentration, but he can still hear Amagi beelining straight for the refreshments and shoving half a pastry down his gullet, then his footsteps as he draws near. “Don’t you dare touch my embroidery without first cleaning your hands,” Shu threatens.

Amagi hand changes direction mid-motion and starts playing around with the hoop rim instead, gleefully toeing the line. “Gyahaha, why not? We’re supposed to be destroying this stuff anyway. I’m only here for the food, but y’know, I don’t think I’d mind being the ‘monster’ part of Craftmonster~”

“Trying to rob me of my catharsis, are you?” Shu says, humor slipping into his tone. “But if you’d bothered to attend last meeting you’d know Yuuki wishes to start recording the destruction process. The effect will be much more dramatic if we keep the projects pristine.”

“Oh don’t go pretending to be Mr. Perfect Attendance now, Shu-kun.” Amagi pinches Shu’s cheek, wringing an indignant squawk out of him. “We both know you’re as much of a lawless delinquent as I am ☆”

“ _Pardon_?”

“I gotcha, I gotcha, it’s a helluva long commute from Paris, but a little butterfly told me you used to skip classes on the regular last year, you naughty boy.”

“‘Fufufu~’” Mademoiselle chimes in. “‘It’s true. Shu-kun’s friends weren’t in his class so it was even harder for him to find the motivation to go.’”

Shu huffs and sticks his nose up in the air. “I did my work perfectly well regardless of my attendance. Of course I wouldn’t pay foolish rules any attention.”

“Oh, I dunno about that. The way I hear it you stressed your poor little butterfly right out.” Before Shu can begin to dig into the implications of that—How much had Kagehira said? And why to Rinne Amagi of all people?—Amagi quickly changes subjects. “Holy shit, is that a bee?”

At first Shu thinks he’s saying that a real, live bee got into the room somehow, and he jolts before remembering the design of his own embroidery. “It is,” he confirms, cheeks slightly colored by his embarrassment. “I thought it would complement the flowers rather well.”

“It’s okay, Shu-kun,” Amagi says wolfishly, slinging an arm around Shu’s shoulders. “You can admit you missed me. Hey, you got any money on you?”

“For you? Never. And don’t get so cocky. I’m only making this to burn it after all. Kakakakaka~!”

Mademoiselle picks up the conversation after Shu focuses back on his stitching, but Amagi doesn’t seem inclined to move, arm still draped lazily around Shu as he chomps at the other half of his pastry. He’s more than used to Kagehira’s clinginess, but Amagi emits heat like a furnace. It’s horribly distracting. Shu shifts uncomfortably.

Suddenly pain lances along Shu’s shoulder blade. Shu grasps at the edge of the table with a grunt, knuckles going white until the sensation passes. When it recedes it leaves an unbearable itchiness in its place.

“‘My, Shu-kun, are you alright? You’re looking pale… Was it worse than usual?’”

“I’m fine, Mademoiselle.” Shu slips out from Amagi’s arm, attempts to reach the itchy area, and as usual fails. He clicks his tongue, annoyed. This is always much easier to deal with when he has access to a back scratcher. He briefly considers using the back of the chair instead, but quickly strikes that down. Too Kagehira-esque. He’ll suffer through it. It’s a mental sensation and not a physical one anyway, although that doesn’t change how vexing it is. 

Amagi is staring at him.

“Don’t gawk, it’s unbecoming.” Shu snaps self-consciously.

A certain glint enters Amagi’s eyes. “Me? Unbecoming? Dunno what you’re talkin’ about. But say, Shu-kun, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were having some soulmark growing pains.”

“Shh!!” Shu hisses. “Don’t talk about such a delicate subject in _public_!”

“Gyahahaha, the clubroom isn’t public! Don’t you think you’re taking the shrinking violet act a bit too far? You know not all Victorians were prudes, right? Some of ‘em even had nipple piercings under all those fancy clo—”

Shu throws the embroidery hoop at Amagi’s face. Unfortunately that just makes him laugh louder. 

“But man, to get growing pains still at eighteen. That’s rare. I got mine all etched on when I was, what, twelve? You’re a late bloomer, Shu-kun~”

“‘Oh, Rinne-kun, don’t tease him too much. He’s quite sensitive about it.’"

“Sorry, sorry, Mado-chan. Was just havin’ a little fun. But don’t you think he should open up about it a lil’? It’s not good for a growing boy to keep all that stuff inside, you know~”

“Hush, the both of you.” Shu snatches his hoop back from where it fell onto Amagi’s lap. “And stop trying to compare soulmarks to… to _puberty_. I would rather die than go through that hell twice.” 

Amagi’s eyes rake down the length of him. “I dunno, looks to me like you got some real good results out of it.”

This greatly flusters Shu although he refuses to fully show it, crossing his arms with a huff instead. “I did grieve my youthful appearance, but I suppose I’ve come to appreciate adulthood over the years.” The height in particular Shu enjoys, especially when he wears heels.

“That’s the spirit,” Amagi cackles. “Ain’t nothing good about being a powerless brat, right? Society might still have bullshit expectations for you, but at least you can tell ‘em all to fuck off.”

“Language,” Shu chides.

“Fuck off ☆”

That shocks a laugh out of Shu despite himself, but he can’t dredge up the will to be chagrined when Amagi joins in too. “Point taken, but rest assured if your vulgarity rubs off on Kagehira even the slightest bit I will be hunting you down.” 

“Wouldn’t expect any less,” Amagi says, in a tone that implies that he’s looking forward to it. Done with his pastry he starts noisily licking his fingers clean. “So what’cha think your mark’s gonna look like? Or is that ~too risque~ to ask?”

Shu stabs the embroidery needle through the fabric a little more harshly than he should. “I can’t begin to guess. It’s always looked rather abstract.”

“That’s ass,” Amagi says sympathetically. Shu does his best to ignore Mademoiselle’s giggle. “Want a hint about mine? Would you believe me if I said it’s about gambling? Fitting, right? Kyahahahaha!”

Shu snorts. “Of course. You’re nothing if not consistent in your branding. What is it, mahjong? Roulette? You have a song named after the roulette, don’t you?”

“Oooo, good guesses. Good guesses. Maybe I’ll let’cha know if you’re right when yours grows in. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours~”

Shu absently swats at him. “Absolutely not.” Then he lifts his head from his work to gaze at Amagi consideringly. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re so cavalier about it, but I’d been so sure that you’d abhor the idea of having a soulmate.”

“Whaaaaat?! No way! Only one person in the whole wide world that matches you? That’s the gamble of a lifetime!”

That’s certainly a unique way of looking at it. Shu shakes his head and gets back to work, outlining the delicate inner structure of the bee wings in black thread. Amagi occupies himself in the meantime with the dice he always keeps on hand, rolling it idly over and over again on the small free patch of table. The rhythmic clatter of it could easily have been annoying, but it becomes almost hypnotic instead. Shu doesn’t know how much time passes when Amagi speaks up again.

“Didja know I’ve got a favorite dice roll?”

Shu blinks, emerging slowly from his creative focus. “Is that so?”

“Wanna guess what it is?”

“I have no idea.”

Amagi snickers. “You’d have a one in six chance of being right, c’mon. That means I’ve also got a one in six chance to get my favorite number though. Pretty common odds. But I still can’t help gettin’ excited when I see it.” He shakes his hand, the dice rattling in his fist. “So what’cha say? Think I’ll get it this time?”

“I suppose you might as well.”

Shu betrays his own nonchalance by craning over when Amagi does his throw, but Amagi covers the dice with his hand before either of them can get a good look at it. “Nuh-uh-uh, no peeking.”

“Then what was the point in telling me all that?!”

“Wanted to see what you’d say, duuuuuh.” Amagi sticks his tongue out at him. 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Aw, don’t sulk Shu-kun, this is the best part!” Amagi draws the dice carefully into his hand, making sure it stays properly on the right number while still being hidden from them both. “When you toss a coin or throw the dice, that’s when you figure everything out. When it's in midair you realize exactly what result y’wanna see. And this right here, the moment when it lands but you haven’t seen what it is yet?” Amagi pauses significantly, eyes alight, like he’s pulling back the curtain to invite him to something spectacular. “That’s infinity. That’s every future at once. You start thinking that maybe fate’ll give you exactly what you want.”

“Or maybe she won’t,” Shu grumbles. This is exactly why he detests gambling. Too much faith. Too much superstition. “I don’t see the point in waiting in suspense for the executioner. One in six hardly qualifies as favorable chances.” 

Amagi shrugs, unbothered. “If she doesn’t maybe it’s better that way.”

“Strange to hear something like that from _you_ , Amagi.”

Amagi sneaks a peek into his hand and makes an odd, intense expression. 

“Well?” Shu demands impatiently. “Was I right? Did you get your number?”

Amagi slips the dice back into his pocket. “Gyahaha! Not telling, killjoy. Go throw your own dice.” And with that parting shot Amagi snags another pastry and sweeps out of the room altogether, without so much as a goodbye.

Shu feels like he’s missed something. Or perhaps several somethings.

* * *

By now Shu has to admit that’s he’s resigned himself to finding Amagi charming, in a lapse-of-good-judgement kind of way. This is an unfortunate realization to make when Amagi seems to have dropped off the face of the planet. Or perhaps that’s for the best, but it feels distinctly odd to see neither hair nor hide of him for the whole week before Shu heads back to Paris. He feels like he’s waiting in suspense the entire time, waiting for him to pop up even up until the point when Kagehira and Wataru see him off at the airport.

But those seven days pass uneventfully, even with the idol work, and the airplane is more uneventful still. When Shu arrives in France he takes a cab ride in silence to his apartment, and when he opens the door it’s just as calm and quiet as it was when he left, everything in its proper place.

It all feels so very… ordinary.

Shu’s shoulder blade erupts with a terrible itch. And since his back scratcher is still packed and no one but Mademoiselle is around to see, he angrily shimmies it against the doorframe until he’s satisfied.  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha i lied there's one more chapter after this actually i have can't shut up disease
> 
> a million thanks to tate who ive been pestering constantly about this fic

Five dots and a line. All this annoyance strung across the span of literal years just for the sake of five dots and a line, and who knows what else to come after. Oh, _why_ couldn’t he just have matched with Nito? A needle and thread would at least have been thematically relevant, maybe even poetic. But no, Shu had been forcefully reminded that he wasn’t the only one who could sew. The mark emblazoned on Kiryuu’s chest attests to that.

After graduation he’d been told that the two of them had met on the rooftop, Kiryuu enlisting Nito’s help to make adjustments to a unit outfit. It’s one of the most well-loved rumors about soulmarks, that they’re tied to first meetings. Shu chooses to believe that it’s true. Otherwise Shu would have to think of all the measurements taken, all the outfits made, all the adjustments he had done just for Nito and wonder why they hadn’t been good enough. (No. No, he knows exactly why.)

“C’est à toi?”

“Ah, merci.” Shu snaps out of his reverie and takes his fallen sketching pencil from his classmate. How careless to reminisce during class, and over issues already long buried. He’s beaten this dead horse so often he’s stripped all the flesh from its bones, but it still lurks in the corners of his mind like a specter. 

He’s grown since then, he knows he has, but he has difficulty imagining what a future love could possibly look like. And yet the persistent itch of his soulmark continues to drive his thoughts in endless, futile circles. When he meets this soulmate will he suffocate them in adoration like Nito? Keep them disdainfully at arm’s length like he used to with Kagehira? 

It’s difficult to find the real shape of love when all he knows are the ways in which he’s loved people poorly. 

The class ends and Shu wanders out amongst his fellow classmates, catching glimpses of their soulmarks. A few on the arms, one on the ankle, one on the neck. It’s fairly common in certain parts of the world to wear bands or makeup over your soulmark when your clothes fail to cover it, but that practice is rare here in France. Shu always feels rude for looking, but the curiosity sways him in the end. A swallow, a coffee cup, a constellation… Shu wonders if perhaps his own will turn into a constellation too, the dots unfurling into stars. He wouldn’t mind that, he thinks. At least it would be beautiful. 

He takes a walk to his favorite cafe, the longer, more scenic route, but in that time he still hasn’t cleared his head. He sits in the patio area with his tea and croissant and stews in his discontent. He’s being ridiculous. The dots are too regularly spaced to ever be stars, and the easiest way to sort this whole mess out would be to politely inform his soulmate, if he ever meets them, that he simply isn’t interested. 

‘I’ve devoted my soul to the arts,’ he’ll say. He doesn’t need a soulmate. He already has a partner of sorts in Kagehira. And his soulmate surely doesn’t need h—

_Ring ring ring_

Shu starts in his seat, tea splashing over the rim of the cup and onto his hand. He curses and snatches a napkin to blot it dry. Who on earth would be calling at this hour? 6:30 in the evening is too late for university business here, and it would be 1:30 in the morning in Japan. Rei? He fares much worse with the phone than even Shu, but Hakaze might be helping him. Kagehira? If he’s awake at this hour then Shu will give him a _severe_ scolding.

Shu answers. “You’ve reached Shu Itsuki. To whom am I speaking?” 

“Damn,” a familiar voice slurs, “was really hopin’ you’d say it in French.” 

“A-Amagi?!” Shu pulls the phone away from his ear, checking the screen for the caller ID feature he hadn’t remembered to look at until just now. The text spells out ‘Shiina Niki.’ “What are you doing? Why are you calling me on Shiina’s cellular phone?”

“Aw shit, izzis not my phone? Nicked the wrong one.” There’s a faint yell rising up from the murmur of background noise, Shiina most likely, and Amagi’s answering cackle. “Not m’fault you weren’t payin’ attention, Niki. Shouldn’t’ve took mine in the first place.”

Ah, now the pieces are falling into place. Amagi is at some seedy establishment, and Shiina tried to confiscate Amagi’s phone before he could do anything foolish. “By all means, if you have pressing business elsewhere feel free to hang up,” Shu says with amusement. 

“Tryin’ to get rid of me already, Shu-kun? No way ☆”

There is no reason to find this endearing, Shu tells himself sternly, no matter how long it’s been since he’s last heard this reprobate’s voice. “Calling me in the dead of night, honestly. Go home and rest.”

“Gyahaha, the dead of night?! The night’s just beginning, babyyyyyy~!”

“Then _why_ do you already sound three sheets to the wind?”

“Jus’ some bad luck, jus’ some bad luck,” Amagi waves off. “Penalty shots, y’know? S’not the point. The point’s that _you_ didn’t answer in French. Gettin’ real fuckin’ disappointed in ES’s biggest ouiaboo.”

Shu blinks, flummoxed. “What on earth is a ouiaboo?”

“People who go to France to gargle Monet’s dick, I dunno.” Shu chokes on his tea while Amagi continues sulkily. “What if _I_ wanna go and gargle a famous French guy’s dick?”

“That is not—!” Shu sputters, short circuiting. “I have no idea what you’re—” Shu flings his arm up helplessly. “Monet is dead!”

Amagi nearly screams with laughter. “Aw, you’re cute. You’re real cute, y’know that? I’m not cruisin’ the morgue for dick, promise.” Another laugh, this time ending in a wheeze. “Oh c-c’mon, don’t get mad. I can feel you getting mad from all the way over the phone. Kyahaha~!”

Shu seethes quietly. “I am hanging up on you.”

“No, no, no, no, no, nooooooooooo. You can’t hang up, y’gotta speak some French first!”

“No.”

“Please~? I’m beggin’ ya here.”

“Then beg.” 

Shu can only feel victorious about shutting Amagi’s mouth for all of ten seconds before the horrible man starts to speak again. “Woahhhh, izzat what you’re into? Well alright. I can work with it.”

“What?! Wait, no—”

“Itsuki-samaaaaa,” Amagi says breathily, “won’tcha speak a little French for me? Pretty please~? I can be a good boy if y’want. I’ll do anything. I’ll lick your boots all nice ‘n clean and—”

“Non!” Shu shrieks, face scarlet. He hangs up. 

A few seconds later the phone rings again. Shu stares at it for a long moment as it buzzes loudly against the table, the discordant sound of it like gravel against his ears. Against his better judgement Shu answers it.

“Okay, that was one word in French. Now we’re gettin’ somewhere.”

“I regret ever speaking to you,” Shu says. “I should have walked immediately in the opposite direction and never looked at you again. I should have kicked you right out of Craftmonster on the first day.”

“But you didn’t ☆” Amagi says with undisguised glee. “Anyway, I’m thinkin’ you could pretend you just answered the phone? That’d be the easiest, right?”

Shu contemplates his options and then sighs harshly through his nose. It might be worth it to get him off Shu’s case. “Allô,” he grits out, “c’est Shu Itsuki. Qui est à l'appareil?”

“Hot.”

Shu throws his phone against the wall.

* * *

It takes Shu more than a few days to get his new phone sorted out, it being the first time he’s had to endure the process in a foreign country. And the instant Shu has it in his hand and operational he goes to his apartment and calls Amagi back. “You did not ring my number just to hear me speak French.”

Amagi snorts, not skipping a beat. “‘Course not. The dice told me to.”

“...”

“I _was_ wonderin’ if you could really speak it though. Watched some old interviews and was like ‘you know you can’t get by with just très bien, right?’ Gyahahahaha!’” 

Shu’s face heats. “Y-You! It takes _years_ to learn an entire language, I’ll have you know!” 

“Yeah, and I’m sure not speaking any full sentences ever really helped you a lot with the whole thing. Be honest, how much better did it start clicking after you moved over there and couldn’t avoid making a fool outta yourself?”

“I spoke a few sentences for effect onstage,” Shu grumbles, just to be contrary. Those were pre-written and thoroughly rehearsed beforehand of course. “I fully acknowledge errors are a necessary evil I must accept for growth. I would just rather those errors not be a matter of public record. There. Are you happy?”

“Yep! But public record doesn’t care much about your rathers~”

Shu straightens up in his armchair. “Is that a threat? Because if you dare interfere with Valkyrie in any way I won’t hesitate to crush you, friendship or no—”

“Woah! Shu-kun, we’re friends? Niceeee. No take backs!” Amagi continues on while Shu sputters, thrown. “Calm down, buddy, I’m not threatenin’ anyone. I just think you should let your hair down. Take that leash off for an hour. Have a good time. Being a fool is fun, y’know?”

“Our definitions of ‘a good time’ are radically different, Amagi.”

Amagi hums. “Not as different as y’think they are.”

Shu doesn’t know how to respond to that. Of course they’re different. Shu would never be caught dead in a gambling den or on whatever sordid streets Amagi prefers to walk.

“Mii-tan sends you his love, by the way. He was real lonely not being able to call ya for a whole week. He was tellin’ me allllll about it.”

“Yes, well.” Shu coughs awkwardly. “Of course I send him mine. But since when did you two get so close?”

“S’just the bond of two good ol’ country boys braving it in the big city, duh!” Amagi pauses to howl out a laugh, amused with himself. “Nah, he still barks like a chihuahua whenever I see ‘im. Pretty sure he’d bite my ankles if he could. He really can’t shut up about you though. Isn’t it nice to be loved~? You’ve seen that picture he carries around, right?”

Shu puts his hand over his face. “Don’t remind me. Don’t tell me he’s going around showing that tattered thing to people.”

“Not really, he’s just _super_ unsubtle about lookin’ at it.” Amagi’s voice gets a touch sharper. “You know he talks to it? Kinda reminds me of someone.”

Shu hand tightens on his phone so hard the case creaks. “So I’ve been told.”

He doesn’t remember how the rest of the conversation plays out afterwards, when he looks back on it later. He must have excused himself rather quickly.

* * *

It’s a fear that’s haunted him ever since last year, that Shu has already left too deep a thumbprint on Kagehira, that he had gotten his hands on a sprouting talent and in his blindness mangled it beyond recognition. Was it Shu’s influence that drove Kagehira to talk to a picture like this? Is it simple mimicry? Admiration? Loneliness? Or if Shu died tomorrow would his voice emerge from that photo one day, distorted through Kagehira’s throat?

Despite all Shu has done in his attempts to correct their course it never feels like enough. The first time Shu had made tangible efforts to soften his demeanor, to pick up pleasant small talk and converse with him as normal people do, Kagehira had rejected it. Overt kindness was ‘sickness.’ Compliments terrified him. It wasn’t until Kagehira ran, convinced that all this change meant he was going to be thrown away, that Shu began to grasp the true depth of the wounds Kagehira had carried his entire life. Kagehira’s fear of abandonment and Shu’s desperate grasp for control had slotted together and fused into the worst of mechanisms, two gears in a hateful machine.

It’s been difficult disassembling that machine piece by piece, and more difficult still attempting to build it into a better one. But he can’t bear to give up now no matter how impossible it sometimes seems.

How could he, when Kagehira never has?

Mademoiselle sits quietly in his lap, a comforting weight. Shu curls himself around her. He wishes she could raise her hand and rest it on his head, like Kiryuu’s mother used to long, long ago. He misses that warmth even now. When Shu’s emotions had been too large for the smallness of his body, when he had shrieked and cried and sobbed, her love had never wavered. With endless patience she would stroke his hair and soothe him, a kindness he’d never been shown before.

Without his permission Shu’s breath hitches and his shoulders quiver. He feels sick.

“‘There there,’” Mademoiselle says, her comforting tone infected by the thickness of tears in Shu’s throat. “‘There’s nothing to be afraid of. Mika-chan is doing his best. He always does his best, doesn’t he? He’ll be alright. Everything will be alright.’”

“This is my fault.”

Mademoiselle tuts. “‘Don’t you remember, Shu-kun? A tangle isn’t the end of the world, no matter how bad it is. All you have to do is re-thread the needle and keep going.’” 

The words throw him back into childhood, the soft afternoon light filtering through the curtains of the Kiryuu household and a half-made patchwork quilt draped in his lap. He’d nearly ripped it to shreds in his frustration, nearly destroyed all those days of hard work. Instead her hands had gently settled over his own, and she spoke softly, sweetly, as she helped him fix his mistake.

He wishes she was still here to untangle the mess of his young, clumsy hands.

* * *

Shu has been harassing regular updates on Kagehira’s status out of Narukami since he first left for France—who better to assess that sort of thing than Kagehira’s closest friend after all, even if most of the texts Shu receives back are variations of ‘omigod hes FINE u worrywort shut upppp’—but now he has Amagi’s surprisingly observant eye to rely on as well. 

Not that conversations with him are much more productive.

[Shu Itsuki]: I’ve heard Kagehira has taken up a serving job at a mahjong parlor you frequent. Does he seem well? Remind him to take breaks, he has a habit of neglecting his limits. 

[Rinne Amag]i: miitans fine

[Rinne Amagi]: dont think hes gonna listen to me tho 

[Rinne Amagi]: maybe ill tell him not to take breaks instead lmfao

[Shu Itsuki]: Non! Absolutely not! I don’t need you complicating matters. He gets confused very easily. Perhaps I’ll see if I can get Narukami to drop by. 

[Rinne Amagi]: dude

[Rinne Amagi]: are u his clingy gf or his mom pick one lmaoooooooooo

[Shu Itsuki]: I don’t want to hear that from someone who alternates between calling Shiina his wife and his living ATM, thank you. I’ve picked Kagehira unconscious off the floor far too many times not to be cautious about his overenthusiastic work ethic. And could you refrain from splitting everything out into so many messages? The constant noise is atrocious.

It’s only Shu’s prior contact with Narukami’s “text talk” that prepares him for Amagi’s butchering of the Japanese language, although even then he sometimes has to squint at one of the messages for a minute before he can work out the meaning. Is it really so difficult to spell out the word ‘girlfriend?’ What possible advantage could there be in typing out ‘u’ instead of ‘you?’ What _is_ a ‘lmao?’

[Rinne Amagi]: no need to be jealous shu-chan

[Rinne Amagi]: maybe if u cook and give me money i’ll call u my wife too ;)

[Rinne Amagi]: bet ur text tone is the default 

[Rinne Amagi]: gonna go collect my winnings rn i know im right 

[Rinne Amagi]: just change it 

[Shu Itsuki]: How on earth would I go about doing that? The controls on this device are absurd. At least the volume control is attached to real buttons. How many layers of hideously designed menus will I be expected to endure while touching a screen that gathers constant fingerprints and skin oil? Not to mention the strain of light being beamed directly into the eye. Who decided this was the design of the future? What flaw in society made people adopt it so readily? One wrong move and the screen of a cellular phone shatters into countless little pieces. Why are people not more concerned about this? 

[Rinne Amagi]: lol

[Rinne Amagi]: screencapping this thx

[Shu Itsuki]: I have no clue what that means. Just be sure to call me the next time you see Kagehira at work.

[Rinne Amagi]: aight

Shu flips his phone face-down, sighing harshly.

* * *

Shu has never been one for texting, a phone call always feels more natural and even then it’s no substitute for face-to-face conversation, but before he knows it his phone is filled to the brim with Amagi’s nonsense. Oftentimes he’ll send a picture with no explanation—the tail of a cat sticking out of a back alley, a winning hand of poker, a bottlecap, a plate of food—and then laugh uproariously at Shu’s confusion. Every once in a while he’ll simply send one of his face while he makes some of the most gruesome expressions Shu has ever seen. Kagehira tells him that these are called ‘selfies.’ 

Shu always declines to send any back no matter how Amagi pesters—an impromptu photo? In a place where he can’t control the lighting? God forbid—but once he took a picture of one of his official bromides and sent it just to see Amagi throw a fit. The memory of it makes Shu laugh even now, packed into this airplane with several dozen others for hours. He wonders exactly when they’ll run into each other after he lands. Today seems unlikely, considering it will be late when he arrives and he’s not planning on visiting the offices until tomorrow. For one thoughtless second he considers seeking Amagi out himself. Surely it would be easy to locate him in one of his regular late-night haunts. 

He doesn’t, of course. It’s absurd that he was even considering it.

* * *

Despite Shu’s earlier curiosity Amagi fails to appear in front of him. It isn’t until a full week later when CosPro is throwing a meet-and-greet party that they even see each other face to face, not that they’re able to so much as spark a conversation. The entire first half of the event is dedicated to servicing their fans, and Shu spends an intolerable amount of time shaking hands, posing for pictures, and pretending that he is a somewhat agreeable person to talk to. 

“Wow Oshi-san, that last one looked like she was gonna float away. Whaddya say to her?”

“Nothing of note,” Shu huffs. He’s learned to handle his shier fans more gently, that’s all. “She was fiddling with a ring—homemade, and in our colors—so I merely complimented her craftsmanship.”

“Yeah, and took her hand all prince-like while you were lookin’ at it,” says a familiar voice, arm draping around Shu’s shoulders. “Smooth bastard. Didn’t know you had it in ya.”

Shu nearly jumps out of his skin. “A-Amagi!” he snaps, hand going over his heart. “This is the Valkyrie table. Shoo!”

“Kyahahaha, phase one of this party is done and dusted. Didn’tcha notice? It’s break time~!”

“Finally.” Shu can’t help but relax in relief. If he had any say in it he’d retire to his dorm apartment immediately, but in the second half he’ll be obliged to rub elbows with his fellow agency members, as well as the gaggle of professionals that wish to collaborate with them. Valkyrie’s been highly sought after to create songs for animations and the like, after all. Shu anticipates that representatives from several of those studios will be here to hash out potential deals. “Ugh. The lighting in this venue is atrociously bright. And did they have to pick a location that _echoes_ so badly?”

“Uh-oh, Oshi-san, you’re gettin’ cranky… Too many people?” 

Shu allows the hand on his forehead with only a half-hearted glare. “I’m perfectly fine. The past few days have just been particularly demanding.”

“I’ll go get’cha some water!” 

Kagehira scampers off and Amagi tugs Shu… somewhere. Behind the Valkyrie backdrop? He should probably protest to the idea of Amagi tugging him away anywhere, but Shu is too relieved by the calmer, darker space Amagi’s found to care. He closes his eyes and rubs at his temples, which is why he’s taken completely unawares when Amagi taps his mid-back.

“Gyaogh!”

“So how’s the soulmark growing pains, Shu-chan? You haven’t mentioned ‘em recently.”

“None of your business!” Shu has gotten adept at ignoring the itch when he needs to focus, but now that his attention has been called to it he can’t help but roll his irritated shoulder. “It’s hardly even my _own_ business. I doubt I’ll do anything when it fully materializes.”

“No? Damn, I was sure you’d be the type to be all about waiting chastely for your ~twue wuv~ Muah, muah, muah~”

Shu flushes. “T-That’s far more practicable in a fiction novel than in real life.”

“Oh reeeeeally.” Amagi sidles in a little closer, eyes glinting. “And how many romances d’ya read, huh?”

“Zero,” Shu says, crossing his arms and looking off to the side, “at least as far as you should be concerned.” Amagi sidles in closer again, and Shu suddenly realizes that he’s been cornered up against the wall. It reminds him of a common scene from his childhood: Amagi could easily resemble any one of those horrid children at school who were eager to prod and pick at him for their amusement. And yet even though Shu’s pulse spikes in a familiar way at the situation… it isn’t out of fear. Not at all. He swallows. “Why… Why are you buzzing around so closely, you nuisance?”

“Y’really gotta wonder why a bee’s hanging around a flower?” Fingers slip into Shu’s belt loops. Amagi’s so close now Shu swears he can feel the body heat radiating off of him. “C’mon. Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?” 

Shu can’t look away from Amagi’s face. It’s those wretched selfies, he realizes. He’s seen so many grotesque expressions in the past few weeks that he’d completely forgotten how handsome Amagi could be. 

Amagi’s tone dips low. “Won’t you play with me, onii-san?”

“... Then impress me, Amagi.” Shu’s chin tilts up. “If you think that you can.”

Amagi kisses sloppy and deep, not out of a lack of technique but out of a surplus of hedonism. He delights in the mess. By the time he pulls away Shu is nearly gasping for air, a line of spit going down from his lips, and he’s quite certain a patch of skin on the inside of his mouth got nicked by his own teeth from the force of it.

“You,” Shu accuses, wiping most of the wetness off his face in one sharp motion, “are the worst sort of brute.”

Amagi cackles, unrepentant. “Yeah? Looks like you like tha—”

Shu snatches a hold of Amagi’s jaw, vise-like, and feels a deep satisfaction when it causes Amagi to yelp. He’s not sure what’s more vexing: the man in front of him, the kiss itself, or the fact that he’d clearly enjoyed it. “I believe it’s my turn.”

Objectively, Shu knows he will be mortified about this later. He knows he will berate himself for doing this in a public space. He knows Kagehira is due back any minute and Shu will vaporize on the spot if he catches them. He knows all of this, and yet with no hesitation Shu jerks Amagi’s face close and does his best to methodically shatter that casual composure with his mouth.

He supposes it’s something of a gamble.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow hey look: more of this

Shu wishes he could claim that the kiss at the party was a moment of lapsed judgement, but to his dismay it’s happened far more than just the once now. Amagi’s taken to stealing them whenever he pleases, or at least he tries, and instead of being sensible Shu often rises to the bait. It’s gotten to the point where his eyes will linger at Amagi’s mouth, his hands, and whatever patch of skin Amagi chooses to show off that day with his horrible clothing. It’s a nightmare. Shu will admit he’s always been easily swayed by aesthetics, but to be swayed by _indecency_? 

“‘Now, now, Shu-kun,’” Mademoiselle calls from just outside the open door. “‘Shouldn’t you scratch a little more gently? You have to cherish your body, remember?’”

Shu’s hand freezes and he looks to the floor, mouth an unhappy slant. “I should rip this wretched thing right off. It gets worse with each passing week.”

He unbuttons his shirt, impatient but precise, and turns to view his bare shoulder in the bathroom mirror. Five evenly arranged dots, one line above them and one line below. It almost looks like some kind of rune you’d find on the cover of a fantasy novel. The entire area is scored with red marks as far down as his hands can reach, marring his pale skin. Shu grimaces. Mademoiselle is right, of course. He goes about applying anti-itch cream. It barely helps, but Shu will accept anything to take the edge off of the sensation.

“I’m truly at my wits end. I’ve found no useful information on how to handle a situation like mine.”

“‘Fufufu, isn’t it natural that you’d be a special case? Surely the long wait will pay off, don’t you think~?’”

Shu has his doubts about that. There’s nothing exciting about being a medical anomaly. It’s true that there are so-called ‘late bloomers,’ as Amagi had said, and it’s also true that marks can take as long as a few years to fully develop. But Shu’s mark has been expanding for a _decade_ now, and according to Shu’s recent inquiries that’s virtually unheard of. He has to hope that this spike in discomfort means that the process is finally coming to an end. He has no idea how he’ll cope with it otherwise. 

“It will hardly matter. I keep telling you, Mademoiselle, I have no intention of pursuing my match any longer. I have other goals, and marks never meant much to families like mine in the first place.”

Mademoiselle tuts, disappointed. “‘Oh Shu-kun, you won’t do yourself any good by denying your romantic heart.’”

Shu colors but doesn’t respond, brow furrowed as he diligently rubs cream into his skin. 

“‘At least promise me you won’t reject them out of hand? You don’t have to be so afraid, Shu-kun. Not anymore.’”

Shu’s hand pauses. “... I’ll consider it.”

* * *

“Wow that shoulder’s _really_ buggin’ you now, huh.”

Shu’s aggravated enough to snort in response. “If that’s the extent of your fabled pokerface-reading prowess I suggest you find a new hobby.”

“Hey, hey, don’t get mad,” Amagi smirks, drawing a card and discarding one. “I haven’t even beaten you yet. Fold?”

“In your dreams, Amagi.”

They both lay their hands on the table. Between Shu’s 5-high straight and Amagi’s flush it’s clear who’s the winner. Amagi cackles. “Aw, a baby straight. Cute. Proud little sovereign would rather go down with the ship than admit he can’t win.”

“Quiet, you! This isn’t even real poker. There’s barely a point to folding with these rules.” 

Shu’s not entirely sure how things got to this. One moment he was eating lunch at the cafeteria—a little late since he’d gotten wrapped up in staging details—and the next Amagi appeared with a deck in his hands and a shark-like grin. Shu blames the fact that he agreed to play on his desperation for a distraction, any distraction. At least there’s no money at stake. It will be a cold day in hell before he ever abases himself to that extent. 

“‘Course it isn’t. No way I’d get you to play the real deal with me… yet. But I’ll take what I can get, kyahahaha! So pay up: who was your first kiss?”

“Rei. In my second year.” And considering what Rei was like then and what Amagi is like now, Shu is suddenly forced to notice the unfortunate thread of commonality between the two. He immediately strikes that knowledge from his thoughts. “Although I suppose… no, never mind.”

“Whaaaaat, you can’t stop there!”

“I can and I will.” Shu grabs the deck and shuffles their old hands back into it, dealing them new ones. This time, surely, he’ll win. Amagi’s luck can’t last forever. 

Amagi lays down a full house. Shu scowls at his own three of a kind. 

“Spill it, Shu-chan~”

Shu crosses his arms. “Kiryuu and I gave each other a peck as children but I hardly think that counts.”

“Kyaaaaa!” Amagi squeals, in the worst rendition of a high school girl that Shu has ever heard. “A childhood sweetheart, what a player. Breakin’ hearts since elementary school?!”

“D-Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Can’t believe you had such a head start on me,” Amagi continues, wiping a faux tear from his eye. “I didn’t get any action till I came to the city.” 

Now that’s a genuine shock. Amagi must get a kick out of Shu’s widened eyes if his snicker is any indication. Shu shakes his head, striving for derisive neutrality as Amagi deals out the next hands. “Hmph. I’m sure you’ve more than made up for the lost time.”

“Maybe, maybe~”

Two queens, a ten, a nine, an eight. A startlingly good opening hand, although the ten doesn’t fall in line with the other heart suit cards. Shu could aim for a flush or hope for a three or four of a kind. His finger plays with the edge of the leftmost queen. The chances of getting two other queens are incredibly slim, it’s likely that he’d strand himself with a mere pair. And yet.

He sets three cards face down. 

“Oh good, ya finally went. I could hear your gears churning from across the table,” Amagi jeers, discarding three of his own cards and dealing out three more to them both. “Izzit real hard keeping your head up with that big, fat, sexy brain? Gyahaha!”

Shu throws his unused plastic spoon at him, face red. It harmlessly bounces off of Amagi’s forehead and clatters to the floor. “I can abandon this game right here if you’d rather play solitaire!” 

Amagi nudges Shu’s foot with his own under the table, conciliatory. “Sorry, sorry. You _gotta_ keep playing with me. Don’t leave me hangin’!” 

“Don’t scuff my shoes,” Shu chides without heat, picking up his new cards. No queens. And even worse no good material to angle for a full house. He sends those cards back for new ones and these turn out to be exactly as disappointing as the last.

“You’re so transparent your face could be a billboard.” 

“Would you let me have a moment’s peace?” Shu snaps. He looks at his hand again but there really is nothing for it. He has to settle for his pair of queens. This is what he gets for relying on impulse. 

“Sure you don’t wanna fold?” Amagi says, waggling his eyebrows. “I’ve got a super embarrassing question all lined up for ya.” 

“I will _not_.”

Shu could dodge the question by folding, yes, but Amagi had loudly announced earlier that the penalty for Shu folding was a kiss, and Shu has no doubts that Amagi would actually try it, stragglers in the cafeteria be damned. Of course Amagi had failed to specify what his own penalty would be, the swindler. 

Shu braces himself and lays the cards down flat. 

“Wait. _You_ had the queens?!” Amagi points, howling his head off so hard it seems like he might tip right off his chair. “What the hell? Look at that, that’s nuts!”

Shu examines both of their sets, bewildered. 

Shu’s hand: Q♡, Q♣, 5♡, 3♠, 2♢

Amagi’s: Q♠, Q♢, 2♡, 4♠, 3♡

“Shit,” Amagi continues, “and your kicker’s higher than mine?” He leans in and taps Shu’s middle card, expression hangdog as if that one rectangle of plastic-coated paper is playing a big cosmic joke on him. “Aw mannn, I was goin’ so strong, and my Lady Luck just up an’ left me! Gimme back my Lady Luck!”

He won? Shu blinks, looking again back and forth between their hands. No. Of course he won. It was bound to happen eventually.

“... ha!” He says finally, crossing his arms with smug self-satisfaction. “About time that so-called goddess of yours acquired better taste. I’m sure she’s been through many trials following around a degenerate like you.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t go shittin’ your pants over it yet, Shu-chan. That’s _one_ round out of how many again?” 

Shu waves a hand like that’s irrelevant. “Don’t distract from the point. You have to answer me this time.” Ideally he’d be able to skewer Amagi with an embarrassing question in revenge, but nothing is embarrassing to a man with no shame, Shu has found. 

“You didn’t think of one beforehand, didja?”

“S-So what if I didn’t?!” Shu fumes and hurriedly flips through his mental rolodex while Amagi snickers. Is there nothing that can at least take this horrible man off guard? But the more Shu wrestles with ideas the more they slip from his grasp, and in the end the question that leaves his mouth is something simple, something that’s been on his mind for a while now: “Why do you keep seeking me out?”

Oddly enough it works. 

For a split-second the gloating grin is wiped off Amagi’s face, leaving him looking strangely young before a more neutral expression takes its place. His eyebrow quirks up in amusement. “‘Cause I want to, duh.”

“Tch. That’s hardly an answer.” Shu supposes he shouldn’t have expected anything else, but he still feels a slight sting of disappointment. “So what? Do you follow me around on mere whim?” 

“Mmmm, guess you could say that. Or maybe I can’t help raising the bet. Y’know. Even though I probably shouldn’t.”

Shu doesn’t know. In fact he’s incredibly lost. What bet? What is there to gain or lose in this scenario? “Shouldn’t? That doesn’t sound like you, Amagi. Have you finally learned that gamblers never prosper?”

Amagi shrugs, his grin returning. “Still gotta try.”

“Try for _what_ exactly?”

“Nuh-uh, can’t ask me two questions, idiotttt. You gotta win the second one fair and square.” 

Shu doesn’t win again. Instead Amagi learns of Shu’s grandfather, Shu’s very first sewing project, and Shu’s very worst day in elementary school. But when Shu takes his leave, incensed at his unending string of losses, he can’t help but notice out of the corner of his eye as Amagi picks up one single card from the hand Shu threw on the cafeteria table. 

The five of hearts. 

* * *

Shu’s forgotten all about that ill-advised card game after a few weeks—his schedule is packed to the brim what with college work in France and Valkyrie’s affairs at home—but that’s clearly for the best. Amagi is a surprisingly pleasant distraction at times, but a distraction nonetheless. He may have inserted himself into Shu’s life with terrifying ease, but that’s no excuse for him to pop up in Shu’s thoughts so often.

But the phone rings, and Shu, as always, answers. “Speak of the devil. Were you designed to torment me?” he accuses with no preamble, wedging the phone between his shoulder and his ear so he can stick another couple pins into the fabric he’s lining up. 

“Torment? Are you in trouble? Do you need assistance? If you tell me where you are I’ll rush there right away!” 

Shu jolts, double checking the name on the screen. Amagi Rinne, just as it had said before. But that surely isn’t him on the other side of the line. The voice sounds entirely too fresh and sincere for that. “Who is this? Why are you in possession of Amagi’s cellular phone? If you’ve gotten your hands on it through unsavory means then return it this instant!” 

“I found it on the ground. Does that count as unsavory?” Without so much as pausing to let Shu answer the person barrels on. “Is my brother with you?”

“Pardon, your brother? How would I know his location? Who is this?”

“Ah, yes! I am Hiiro Amagi. You are in this device’s ‘favorite contacts’ list. Aira tells me that is where close friends and family should go. Since you are a friend of my brother’s we should become friends as well!”

Shu is at a loss for words. “I—”

“Have you seen him?” The boy continues.

Shu attempts to gather his composure, shoving that bit about contacts aside for later inspection. Amagi’s younger brother. Being in different agencies Shu’s rarely seen him, but Alkaloid did make quite a stir. He’s quite the straightforward type, isn’t he? Like a miniature Morisawa, only without the tokusatsu obsession. About as different from Amagi as one can get save for their equally high energy levels. 

“You should hope not considering I’m currently located in France,” Shu finally answers. The boy shouts in surprise, and Shu can’t help but laugh at the note of distress in it. “Don’t fret, if I found that scoundrel here I’d toss him right back across the ocean myself. But to answer your question directly, young lad, I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of him.”

The boy makes an unhappy hum. “Then, do you know where he might have gone?”

A couple suggestions come to mind: Shiina’s apartment, the mahjong parlor, the cafeteria. But other than that he hasn’t a clue.

* * *

It’s becoming increasingly apparent how little Shu knows about Amagi. The man will unearth old interviews and pry anecdotes out of Shu like it’s the easiest thing in the universe, and there Shu stands not even able to offer proper assistance when his younger brother goes looking for him. Vexing. Absolutely vexing. 

“Oshi-san?”

Ah. And again he’s gotten distracted. Shu tsks and motions Kagehira closer. “Come here. Let me get a good look at you.”

He takes note of his skin—properly hydrated and washed, no signs of sleep deprivation—and pokes and prods at the muscles underneath. Bodybuilders they will never be, but thankfully Kagehira has graduated from skeletal to lithe, the help from CosPro’s dieticians and Shu’s newfound insistence on strength training managing to fill him out somewhat. Finding him in good health is a relief. The shock of seeing him in such abject disrepair before the Neverland Cup lingers with Shu still. 

Kagehira bats Shu’s hands away. “Nnn, y’don’t gotta be so touchy when you do that, do ya?”

Shu can’t even begin to imagine why Kagehira would say something like that when he’s the one that clings all over Shu every time he first arrives from France. “You were never so finicky about it before.”

“Dolls don’t care ‘bout that sorta thing, but I gotta be a human now!”

Shu huffs and reaches for Kagehira’s arm again. “Don’t be difficult. I never said you had to be a _normal_ human being.” Thinking things resolved Shu examines Kagehira’s fingertips. A couple have gnawed skin around the nail, but other than that—

Kagehira’s hand is yanked out of his grasp before he can even finish his thought. 

“Gyh—Kagehira!”

“You’re not listenin’ to me!”

“Well, I haven’t the faintest idea what you want to say,” Shu says, getting irritated. “Do you have an objection to maintenance? The human body needs it as much as any doll. Am I not still the leader of this unit? Is it not my responsibility to oversee my partner’s growth?”

“That!” Kagehira bursts, pointing. “Y’can’t just call us partners and think that changes everything.”

Shu sputters. “Wh—I… That’s absurd. We’ve established this already. I’m only still taking the lead in some things to allow your skills time to catch up. I’d attempted to change everything too quickly before—”

“S’not what I’m talkin’ about!” Mika grabs a fistful of his own shirt, a nervous tic Shu hasn’t seen in a while. “You’re a genius so why’re you this dumb?”

“Excuse me?!”

“Amagi-san told me about you wantin’ him to keep an eye on me.”

 _Amagi_. Damn him.

“Naru-chan’s doin’ it too, right? If you got something y’wanna know just ask me!”

“And if I did, would you give me a truthful answer?” Shu snaps. “How many times do you think I can hear ‘everything’s fine,’ particularly after that Neverland mess?”

Kagehira flinches but doesn’t back down. “Then what about you, huh?! I don’t got nobody to spy on you! I don’t know nothing but what you tell me! Y’chatter all about your projects, but I dunno if you’re happy or sad or eating right or not or, or—”

The break in Kagehira’s voice might as well be a slap across the face, and Shu stands there poleaxed by it. “I. I’m fine, obviously. You can tell now just by looking, can’t you?”

Kagehira groans, frustrated. Then he makes a grab for Shu’s shoulder. 

“Don’t touch that!” Without thinking Shu stumbles back out of reach, only realizing his error when he sees the look on Kagehira’s face. Quickly he tries to backpedal. “Pay that no mind. It’s nothing serious. More an annoyance than anything else—”

“It’s your soulmark, ain’t it. That’s what’s got ya all tangled up in knots.” When Shu fails to reply, Kagehira soldiers onward. “Hey Oshi-san, why’d I have to hear about that from Amagi-san an’ not from you?”

“I. You. Since when have you two gotten so—no.” Shu tries to shake reason back into his own head. “It’s irrelevant. It won’t affect our activities, so it has nothing to do with you.”

Kagehira’s mouth drops wide open. “Got nothin’ to do with…?” Kagehira reaches for the stack of practice room towels. Shu doesn’t comprehend why until one hits him smack in the face. 

“GYOGH!”

“Got nothin’ to do with me?!” _Smack._ “Idiot!” _Smack._ “Moron!” _Smack._ “Stupidhead!”

“Kagehira! Cut that out! What on earth has gotten into you?!”

“How long’s it gonna take for you to get it?” _Smack._ “It don’t matter whether I’m a doll or a human or a dog or whatever else.” _Smack._ “It don’t matter if we’re six feet away or six thousand miles.” _Smack._ “I’m with ya forever!” _Smack._ “Didja really think I wouldn’t wanna know?”

Kagehira reaches for another towel, panting from the passion of his outburst, but they’ve all run out. He’s out of ammo. He slumps. Shu warily puts down his arms. “Kagehira…?”

“Didja really think I wouldn’t wanna know somethin’ so important about ya?”

“It isn’t,” Shu insists. 

The words fall strangely flat in the vastness of the practice room.

In the end Kagehira flounces out of the room, upset, and they do not have their practice session. Instead Shu stands alone on the polished wooden floor, surrounded by mirrors. Rather than look at them he looks at the mountain of fallen towels at his feet, tempted for a moment to pluck one from the pile and pull it over his head. It wouldn’t offer the same comfort, he knows, as the old blanket. Nor is this room his old stronghold, the handicraft clubroom. He has no stronghold here. 

He’s supposed to have grown up since then. 

* * *

In the next two days that Shu is in Japan Kagehira mostly snubs him, crossing his arms and sticking his nose up in the air with a little ‘hmph!’ whenever Shu attempts conversation. Wataru reassures him that these spats of conflict are a good thing, but Shu fails to see how. Mostly it just seems like karma. Or the universe having a good laugh at his expense. When Shu had mentioned during Kagehira’s slump months before that he’d reminded him of himself, this isn’t what he’d had in mind. 

But despite all that Kagehira still insists on seeing him off at the airport. He’s quiet and sullen on the way there, but before Shu boards Kagehira hugs him like he intends to never let go.

* * *

[Rinne Amagi]: damn look at all these texts

[Rinne Amagi]: go off shu-chan

[Shu Itsuki]: Finally! I’ve been attempting to contact you for weeks! I cannot believe you had the gall to breach confidentiality and then hide yourself away like a common criminal.

[Rinne Amagi]: confidentiality? i didn’t sign nuthin bro

[Shu Itsuki]: AMAGI.

[Rinne Amagi]: woah u found the capslock 

[Rinne Amagi]: mad cause miitan’s in the loop now?

[Rinne Amagi]: he just looked sooooo sad not knowing jack shit about what was going on w you

[Rinne Amagi]: so i gave him a lil somethin somethin

[Rinne Amagi]: aren’t i nice? praise me ☆

[Itsuki Shu]: I will do nothing of the sort! Pick up the phone, Amagi. I have words for you.

The phone rings itself into silence, and Shu glares. If Amagi thinks he’s getting away that easily then he has another thing coming for him. Shu’s prepared to sit here in this chair for hours dialing his number if he has to—ah? Well look at that. Amagi is actually calling him back. Something about the call screen looks unusual, but Shu doesn’t think much of it. He presses accept. 

Amagi’s face pops into view. Shu yelps and nearly drops his phone.

“Kyahahahaha! Now that’s the face I missed!”

“That was uncalled for,” Shu grouses, attempting to collect himself. This must be what Kagehira meant by ‘video chatting,’ although Shu was under the impression that that was done on the computer. “And you could very well have seen my face earlier if you’d bothered to be around when I was in Japan last.”

“Ohhhh? Didja miss me too? Didja, didja?”

“Hmph.” In the past Shu might have denied it, but that seems silly at this point. “We rarely have the opportunity to meet. It just seems like a waste.” 

Amagi’s grin softens a touch, visible even through the imperfect medium of a phone screen, and that makes it more difficult than it should be to stay mad at him. “Too bad ya didn’t hunt me down a lil harder or we coulda had some fun in person~”

“I doubt _you_ would have had fun if I’d found you then.”

“Mmmm, dunno about that ♡”

It’s even worse getting flustered when he knows Amagi can see it. He flips the phone around, assuming the camera used to take those so-called ‘selfies’ is the same that takes the video, and is gratified to learn he’s right from Amagi’s sound of disappointment. Shu clears his throat sharply. “Don’t distract me from the point of this conversation. I did _not_ tell you to keep an eye on him just so you’d blab about every little detail.”

“Doubt he’d agree your soulmark trouble’s a ‘little detail,’ but okay.”

“Why does everyone assume they can tell me how much this matters?!” Shu whips the phone back around, embarrassment forgotten. “I decide how much this matters! And I’ve decided that it’s no one else’s concern.” 

“And what’s the great Shu-sama, to who it matters—“

“To whom.” 

“ —to who it matters so very, very little, gonna do when the thing finally comes in all the way?” 

Shu shifts uncomfortably. “Well. I suppose enter the registry. Regardless of my personal feelings on it, it’s only polite to have a discussion with the other party if they’re available.” A thought occurs to him. “Yours came in rather early, didn’t it? And you never found your match?” 

“They don’t do the whole registry thing where I come from. An’ when I got into the idol biz they pretty much just shrugged and said sorry no dice.” 

“And you haven’t checked again since then?” 

“Nah, took my entry out.”

“Now why would you do that?” Shu asks, shocked. “You’re actually somewhat invested in finding yours, aren’t you? What are you waiting for, a fated encounter?” He tuts. “Careful Amagi, that sounds awfully romantic.” 

Amagi cackles. “Maybe I just decided I like it better when kismet kicks my ass.” 

“You are _so_ strange.”

“S’why you like me,” Amagi says, and even without the video Shu would have been able to picture every inch of that unbearably smug grin.

* * *

In the end Shu isn’t able to scold Amagi nearly as much as he would have liked, although even if he had Shu doubts it would have had the desired effect. Amagi, for whatever reason, is convinced he did nothing wrong. Or perhaps he does so many things wrong so regularly that he’s long since ceased to care. 

Either way Shu finds that he’s unable to explain his own side properly. Why wouldn’t he be concerned about Kagehira, when that boy has such a history of working himself to the bone? Why would Shu bother him with trifling concerns when he’s dealt already with Shu at his lowest? Godhood has slipped from his shoulders and he’s let go of the marionette strings for good, but does he not owe it to Kagehira to at least fulfill the role of mentor properly? 

But Kagehira does not seem to agree, and it occurs to Shu that Rinne Amagi isn’t the only one that defies his understanding.

* * *

When Shu visits the next time things are both better and worse than he expects. There is no grudge, no tantrum, no awkwardness, but Kagehira is relentless in the way he hounds him for information. The slightest sigh out of Shu’s mouth, the slightest twinge in Shu’s shoulder, and Kagehira is there with a flood of words and the most stubborn expression Shu has ever seen. Because of this Shu is forced to admit a certain fondness for cellular communication—the ability to press ‘end call’ whenever one pleases is absurdly convenient. 

Unfortunately face-to-face conversation does not have that option. 

“Playin’ hide and go seek? Gyahaha, nice! Can I crash the party?” 

Shu has to slap a hand over his own mouth to avoid squawking in surprise. “Shhh!” he hisses before yanking Amagi around the corner. “I should have known you would appear at the worst possible moment.” He’d say more, but that’s when he hears rapid, clumsy footsteps from further down the hall and it wouldn’t take a genius to calculate the chances of that being Kagehira looking for him. He latches a hand around Amagi’s wrist and drags him through the nearest unassuming door.

“Ohhh, takin’ me with you to your hidey spot?”

“I said shhh!!” Shu listens with breath held as those footsteps rush past them and fade into the distance. He sighs in relief. “You truly thought I’d let you loose to tip Kagehira off? After what you did?”

“Man, and here I thought you were just super psyched t’see me.”

Shu curses the way his heart skips, once at those words and again when he finally looks at Amagi and sees the teasing curl to his lips. Shu’s hand still remains around his wrist, Amagi’s skin warm against his palm. He is acutely aware in this moment exactly how long it has been since they've last been face to face.

“Too bad this isn’t a supply closet or somethin’,” Amagi continues, making a show of looking around the empty room. “Woulda been pretty sexy to get all up close and personal. Squeezin’ in between the shelves and rubbin’ all over each oth—”

“It would have been horrifically uncomfortable,” Shu corrects, his eyes still locked on Amagi’s lips. “This is leagues better for that sort of thing.”

Amagi doubletakes. “...wait, for rea—?”

His shock is delightful, but not nearly so delightful as Shu finally getting to kiss the smirk off of his face. He lets go of Amagi’s wrist and grasps at the messy nest of his hair, right at the nape, and tightens harshly until Amagi’s lips part, pressing his advantage for as long as he can. Of course it doesn’t take long for Amagi to recover and make things as sloppy as he pleases. Shu would cringe at how loud the smack of their lips becomes in the quiet of the room if he had any extra attention to spare, but Amagi’s hands are at Shu’s waist and he’s backed Shu up against the closed door and that’s made it exceedingly difficult to care. 

When they finally part Shu’s mouth is a wet wreck, and quite possibly bruised, but he’s gratified at least to see that Amagi’s panting harder than he is. 

“Wow Shu-chan, that’s one way to keep a guy captive. Learn that in France?”

“Quiet, you.” Shu pulls out a handkerchief—a difficult maneuver when Amagi refuses to budge—and delicately pats his own mouth dry. “One of these days I’ll train you not to slobber.”

“Promise?” Amagi wolf grins. “I’ll call you Sensei if you call me Rinne-kun~”

The huff Shu makes is more amused than it should be. “As if you’d be so lucky.” He rearranges the handkerchief in his hand to a clean section and then lightly grasps Amagi’s chin. “Now hold still.”

Amagi had appeared to expect Shu’s fussiness, but for some reason this one action seems to throw him. He remains strangely speechless as Shu methodically blots at his mouth. Shu isn’t sure whether to be concerned about that, but he continues until he deems Amagi sufficiently presentable nonetheless. There isn’t much to be done about Amagi’s hair, it looks chaotic by default, but Shu still combs through the section he’d pulled at with his fingers a few times for good measure, just to be thorough. 

“There,” Shu says, touching Amagi’s cheek. “Although you’ll want to apply some balm later. I know refinement isn’t a part of your image, but at least do the bare minimum to take care of yourself.” When Shu meets Amagi’s eyes again he finds Amagi looking at him intently, the air around him more serious than usual. Shu lets his hand drift back down, strangely self-conscious of it. 

“Hey,” Amagi suddenly speaks. “Been wonderin’. How long ya planning to keep all this up?”

This? What this? The evasion? “I’d rather not make a habit of ducking into unused ES rooms, if that’s your meaning. Hopefully he’ll tire of making all this commotion sooner rather than later.”

Amagi snorts, unimpressed. “You are a real idiot, aren’tcha. Well, alright, we can talk about Mii-tan if you want. How long y’gonna keep him flyin’ around in circles? Don’tcha think it’s a little sad after he went through all the trouble of pouring his lil guts out?”

Being hemmed in against the door has rapidly become very unfortunate. Shu has the urge to cross his arms but can’t, so he turns his face away instead. “I never said we had to talk about Kagehira. And frankly, I don’t see why it should matter to you.”

A pause.

“Oh, yep,” Amagi says with feeling. “Mii-tan’s right, this sucks _ass_.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

Amagi forcefully turns Shu’s head back towards him, only snickering when Shu glares. “Hate t’break it to you, puppet boy, but humans that like you are gonna wanna know about you, and you gotta answer them sometimes. Like, with the truth an’ shit.”

“You don’t understand the circumstances.”

“Gyaha, there’s always circumstances! Stop being a coward about it.”

Shu bristles and clings to his stubbornness for another long moment, eyes locked with Amagi’s, but Amagi doesn’t waver, and all at once Shu deflates, sinking back against the support of the door. He doesn’t have it in him anymore. All he has left is overwhelming weariness. “I suppose that’s why Mademoiselle refuses to speak to him as of late,” he admits with a sigh and a handwave. “It puzzled me at first, but she’s been urging me to be more communicative for a while now.”

“S’kinda funny how much smarter than you she is.”

Shu clicks his tongue but otherwise doesn’t take offense. It’s true he’s often relied on her counsel. Although it’s galling to have Amagi of all people offer advice to him. “If it’s humor we’re talking about,” Shu replies, “then I have to say it’s amusing to hear _you_ talk about communication when you’re the one that sprints away from your own younger brother at the drop of a hat.”

“Oof. Yeowch! Damn, okay. Hitting me where it hurts, huh?”

“He seems like a wonderful young lad. Earnest. Bright. It’s a shame you’re not more like him.”

“Shu-kun, you’re killin’ me here.”

“Kakakakakaka~”

When Shu’s laugh fades out a comfortable silence replaces it. Surprisingly comfortable, Shu notes, especially considering they just had a disagreement. Amagi—who had been pouting ‘woe is me’ style the entire time—ends up slumping into him as if he’s as exhausted as Shu is. Not ideal considering it squishes Shu against the door, but Shu bares with it. It leaves them in something similar to an embrace, and the most surprising thing of all is that Shu finds that comfortable too. 

“S’just a lot to deal with people that look up to you that hard, y’know,” Amagi says after a while. “What am I supposed to do? Actually be that great all the fuckin’ time?”

Shu hums. “I’ve tried that. It backfired horribly.”

“‘Scuse you, you’re still tryin’ to pull that shit.”

“I am _not_.”

“You so are.”

“You clearly never met me in high school. I was much, much worse.”

“Wow, yikes.”

Shu twists Amagi’s ear until he yelps even though he agrees. “Perhaps my progress isn’t entirely over yet, I’ll give you that.”

“‘Least you two know where y’wanna go. I still haven’t figured that bit out. What else I gotta do to disillusion this kid? What else I gotta do to keep ‘im from comparing himself to me?”

Shu doesn’t have an answer, but Amagi doesn’t seem to expect one. So instead of offering meaningless platitudes Shu keeps holding him. 

They stay there for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up @rixsig_writes on twitter where are my rinneshu brethren


End file.
